Necrosis
by bulelo
Summary: When they don't know what to do with themselves, they find each other. In which a woman out of time learns to save lives and a half-man learns to be king. [SI-OC, medical bloodbending]
1. Choices

**A/N:** Welcome to _Necrosis_. There will be some dark, unsettling concepts and trauma in this story, due to the nature of bloodbending and how the show has portrayed it.

For those confused about this introduction, I am referencing a scene from _The Legend of Korra_ that does not require any knowledge. It is only to set-up the main character's reincarnation, and her mentioned son will only be used as a plot device to haunt her (though he is indeed an antagonist from TLOK).

Reviews are helpful and encouraging; please be a vocal reader. Thank you for coming on this journey with me!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my OCs and ideas. Cover art by kelogsloops.

* * *

"The axe forgets; the tree remembers."

—African Proverb

I. Choices

 **Underground Red Lotus Prison, Northern Earth Kingdom. 171 AG.**

Wanli knew, from the moment she held that tiny hand in her first life, that it would always end with him. Head on the ground and mouth making room for the blood, the waterbender half-heartedly nurses the hole in her abdomen. Though it hurts no less than last time, she is tired of acting surprised by the same result.

Fists still vibrating from the power of his airbending, her son Zaheer falls to his knees in shock and cradles his mother. The warmth of his arms does little to ease her pain.

"M-mother, why did you interfere?" he asks. "We were so close to the end. So close to eradicating the absolute power. No more living in hiding."

Behind them, the shackled Avatar Korra observes with a mix of horror and pity. She shares a tragic look with Wanli, an unspoken understanding. The two women know the weight of reincarnation like no other: one destined to lose her past lives, and the other to remember her sins forever. Wanli can hear the roar of the girl's heart pump through her brain. The sound is wild and desperate and full of promise, too young to die in some hole in the wall.

With great difficulty, the mother peers into the face of her baby boy, his anguished olive green eyes and the tears splitting a worn face. Wanli can feel his blood, too, torrents of heat flooding his temple and palms.

There is nothing that hurts her more than this: loving an irredeemable man. Motherhood and death are one and the same to her now. The reckoning has come once more.

"You could be… better..." the woman whispers. "But… you never… change."

 _That makes the two of us._

Wanli is awake long enough to see the moment her son loses his mind, before the familiar screams for forgiveness die with her.

* * *

She once trusted time to be linear, proceeding perfectly into eternity like yarn drawn through a loop. But this isn't the first time Wanli is wrong; it won't be the last, either.

It is so cold down in the dark. She always forgets what this sunless world feels like, the pang of hunger for the sky. In the all-encompassing womb of the afterlife, she curls into the fetal position her son left her in. It is the same reaction she had to her first husband after one too many drinks and a lightning backhand.

The sound of water laps at her fragmented conscience, carrying her soul through the motions of memory like the tendrils of a jellyfish. She has lost track of the rebirths now—seventy? eighty?—but the number is irrelevant. Adrift in the ink sea, the mother prays this is the last time she'll have to relive her son's sabotage.

It never gets easier to look at him. Wanli knows the terror he is capable of executing a hundred times over. His anarchist philosophies never change; plotting the death of the Avatar is only the first step.

She blames herself for being a failure. After all, she's the reason why he turns out worse in some of the timelines. Her avoidance of him, the way she'll see him as nothing but a disaster in the making. She's abusive in some lives, and in others, she takes a knife to her throat. The cycle immediately starts all over again when she reaches the climax—fails and dies a thousand different ways—the perpetuity like a broken swing-set.

Sometimes, Wanli gives up entirely and never adopt him; why go to such lengths, when the child wasn't even yours to begin with? But by some cosmic power, they will always be on the same life path.

In every life, he will let her down; in every life, she will disappoint herself even more. And when the light at the end of the tunnel pulses, rupturing the false stillness, Wanli reaches out like she always does and comes out alive.

* * *

 **Foggy Swamp, Southwestern Earth Kingdom. Spring, 98 AG.**

Sunshine attacks her eyes from the canopies, streams of gilded heat between shifting leaves. Wishing to sleep for just five more minutes, Wanli rolls to her side and cozies up to a vine. The movement warrants the yawn of a tiger seal. Something mud-baked and putrid reaches her nose, which she scratches irritably.

 _Oh?_ This is definitely different. She should be waking up in a cramped room somewhere in Ba Sing Se as a bitter and penniless thirty year-old. At any moment, the cabbage merchant advertises outside her window, shortly smashed in by a rock. Soon, her childhood friend Engi will crawl through the frame with a bag of stolen vegetables. She proceeds to complain about unemployment and Republic City's latest trouble with…

"Yoooo, are ya dead?"

 _That voice… maybe things haven't changed after all…_

"You wish," Wanli mumbles. "We both know who will die first."

"How boring. I thought my arch-nemesis was finally felled, but of course you wouldn't go down like that. Whatever will I do?"

 _Wait, that voice—!_

Wanli startles awake, the itch of bark and mosquito finally registering to her senses. She pulls herself upright but stops short of dropping into the green pool below, legs hanging off the base of the fallen willow. A hand presses into her thigh to steady her. When she follows it up the length of limb and torso, the unmistakable eyes of Engi blink back at her. Only, Wanli's best friend is a teenager again, gap-toothed and full of admiration.

" _What_ are you wearing?" Wanli asks, face pinching.

"The same stuff you are, genius. Latest swamp fashion."

She moves to scan her own body then, expecting to find long legs and fine cotton. Instead, she is met with a child form from dreams of better times. A wooden band keeps her breasts bundled up, while a grass skirt tangles around her lower half, feet bare and tawny in the light. This strange outfit…

"Engi?" The sound of her voice is too young, too soft, too undamaged. It knows nothing of war and losing a child.

"Yes, the one and only," the other girl responds.

"How old are we?"

"Uh, fourteen. Did ya hit your noggin' somewhere? My birthday _just_ happened!"

"Fourteen, fourteen…" Wanli repeats to herself. "That means… we're in the Foggy Swamp Tribe?"

"Huh, I've never heard you willingly call it that before." Engi flashes her a concerned look. She flippantly gestures to the humid environment around them. "Yes, this is our wonderful 'second' home. Leaf hats. Fish bone stew. _Insects_."

"Have we been here for a year?"

"I guess? Not that time really exists here. How were you keeping count?"

What is going _on_? Why is she in her childhood landscape, talking to a small Engi so casually? Could she have really hit her head somehow in the afterlife? Where could she have even hit it? She is supposed to be making to-do lists and plotting significant events leading up to the adoption and development of her son. Something went gone terribly wrong with this reincarnation.

A thought occurs through the confusion. "Has the Fire Nation passed through yet?"

"No," Engi says. "Hey, why are you asking that? And what do you mean by _yet?_ You're scaring me now. I'm taking you to Old Man Huu for a check-up, pronto."

"Unexpected development," Wanli says under her breath, lost in her own headspace. "I shouldn't be this far back, there's just no way."

The pseudo-immortal is overcome with a sense of dread, gaze growing scared and unfocused. She brings a thumb up to her mouth to bite down, the blossoming blood a familiar taste in an unfamiliar world.

This isn't the starting point. This isn't where she's supposed to be. Could this be a new timeline? A new test from the universe?

Her best friend looks upon the scene in mild distress and waves a very helpful hand across her face. "Hey, are you really not okay? Was it something I said?"

It takes a few moments for the fog to pass, before Wanli jumps up from the toppled tree trunk. She scans for something in the distance, some sign that this could be a trick or dream. The sudden movement sends Engi over the edge and into the swamp water below with a _sploosh_.

"Pft, bah! What in the— Warning, _please_ , before you go into one of your weird modes!"

Words of apology or explanation go stale in Wanli's mouth. As if for the first time, she views the enormous roots of the banyan-grove tree spilling into the wet earth. For a split second, she sees its spiritual center glow in broad daylight, pulsing like an organ. And somehow, that is enough to tell her that fate has changed its course; that perhaps, this is her break for freedom.

She begins to laugh, choking up as she does so and reaching a fever pitch. Her heartbeat thrums in her ears to a migraine-provoking ring that seems to grow louder and louder with every breath.

 _I can actually die now_ , she thinks. _I can actually die in peace._

"This can't be real," she says, voice rising. "You spirits and the games you play with us. You give me Zahreer, then you make him rotten, then take him away from me. Ha ha ha, not this time—!"

Her physical state catches up to her through the hysteria. Wanli dramatically falls from her perch, right next to a shell-shocked Engi.

"A-are you really dead now? Hey…"

* * *

The next time Wanli wakes up, the smell of swamp herbs grounds her existence in this new life, along with the lopsided grin of her adoptive parent Huu. They are in the village now, under the roof of his hut beside the main river. She almost tears up at the nostalgic patchwork ceiling, the mismatched furniture, but swallows deeply to stop the onslaught of emotions.

With a wave of his hand, Huu brings over some freshly minced muck to feed her from a boiling cauldron. His waterbending reminds her of a root: deep, careful, and living in the past.

"Heyo, little Wiyo," he coos, happy to see her gag reflex kick in. She downs the food anyway, masking the equal cringe and excitement at being called her childhood nickname _Wiyo_. It sounds like a separate person, someone gone off to war and never retrieved. The little girl she'll never be again. "If you've got enough energy to choke on the daily special, I'd say you're ready to join the real world."

"How long was I out?" Wanli asks.

"Half a day, gave Engi quite the scare." Suddenly, Huu squints and looks her straight in the eye. She makes no move to back up; he can practically _smell_ fear. "You're politer than usual, did ya see a Fire Nation soldier or something?"

Wanli pushes the leaf blanket from her body to sit up. If she remembers correctly, she and her Northern water tribe companion had been adopted into marshland territory. Orphaned, their poor relatives sent the pair to live with their distant kin, leaving the children to fend for themselves as refugees in a foreign, unkind land.

The girls hadn't taken the change all that well, not until their twenties, when the world was slowly piecing itself back together after the end of Fire Lord Ozai's reign. Even then, they felt no need to return to the North Pole; they would've torn it down themselves if not for the newfound peace with the South, the more compassionate clan.

"You're overthinking, pops." Wanli motions for a cup of water, practically inhaling it as soon as the container reaches her hands. "I've never been better."

 _Worse_ , her mind counters. _What if they know you're a fake? What if they find out what you can do? What you would_ _do for the future?_

The last question stops her in her tracks. What future? The one she's re-lived all these years, or the one of her own making? What is she going to do without a definitive purpose? Without her child?

"If you say so." Huu breaks her thoughts with a sooty hand, running it down her braids, eyes gleaming something fond. "Don't push yourself. I don't want my apprentice to fall apart before she finishes the great art of boat crafting."

She smiles for what feels like the first time in ages, remembering just how calm life was before the war became imminent and irrevocable. Before she learned the fastest way to kill a person was through their own body.

The frown sets in like a deep, sudden bout of food poisoning. "It's not good to be back," Wanli says, without thinking.

"Oddball," the old man jests, seemingly having heard nothing unexplainable. It's just Wiyo being Wiyo. "Care for seconds?"

* * *

On the other side of the world, a boy around the same age loses the battle of his life and feels his heart burn away just as quickly as the skin on his face. The image of his father, basked in fire and shadow, will be forever ingrained into his eyelids. Family becomes an abstract concept on his way to the healers, who have never seen such a terrible mauling of skin.

But he would do anything to be part of a family again—even the one that ruined him. That's why he goes on this fruitless journey in the first place, to capture the most powerful being alive: the Avatar.

As he looks over the boat edge, his uncle humming over a cup of jasmine tea beside him, his fury grows into a dark resolution.

 _Father, you_ will _accept me again. No matter what I must do._


	2. Routine

**A/N:** A softer worldbuilding chapter. Thanks for supporting this story.

* * *

"I loved being in my own head so much, it was getting harder and harder being with other people."

—Marian Keyes

II. Routine

The last day of spring feels like a blistering welt, dry to the touch but harboring a deep moisture that threatens to pop the average villager's sanity. After the recent rain, which came down in musty torrents and leveled the local vegetation, the Foggy Swamp Tribe found its nets bursting with water life. For a change of pace from bug dishes, old and young gather outside to prepare the food and spend quality time together.

"Don't you think it's a lil' odd?"

Engi pauses, letting the half-finished weave rest in her lap. She turns to the lead fisherman Tho with a raised brow. He bites into a loaf of glow-fly bread with unfazed enthusiasm.

"What is?"

"Your friend," he presses. His partner Due hums under his breath in agreement.

"What about Wanli?"

"She have a concussion or summin'?"

"I definitely thought that two weeks ago," Engi laughs. "Why? Did she start talking crazy to ya too?"

"Naw, not that. I just don't think she's all there. She seems… _different_. Not as fun and talkative anymore."

Tho jabs a finger over Engi's shoulder. She follows it to the cleaning and skinning station on the other dock. With long, crude knives made from bog iron, the people dispense the edible parts into reed baskets and chit-chat about nothing in particular.

Like a sore thumb at the very end, Wanli sits cross-legged and hunched over, staring blankly into a dead fish's eyes. One hand comes to rest at the gills, while the other traces gentle circles across the sparse scales. Her tools have remained unused for hours and no one has bothered to suggest otherwise.

"So she's a little slower than usual," Engi concludes, resuming her work. "I don't like gutting fish either, but nobody's calling me absent."

"That's 'cuz you don't wanna hear 'em—"

He gets a face full of water for that comment. "You better watch yourself, leaf-brain. I might just cover you in gravy some time and feed you to Slim."

"You wouldn't dare." He shrinks under her gaze nonetheless, huddling behind one of his finished nets. "Slim loves me!"

Due hides a laugh behind his fist. "This here's a loyal friend, Tho, if I ever seen one. Won't let anyone talk smack about Wanli."

"That's right," Engi says. "Who else is gonna stick up for her?"

"I mean," Tho begins, "I would put my money on the lil' lady defendin' _you_ in the ring, but we all got our prid—"

Another wave comes up over the deck, successfully flattening the man and tangling him in his nets. While Due helps the poor guy up, Engi wipes the sweat from her cheek and steals another peek at Wanli.

In a subtle show of concentration, her friend brings two fingers to her collarbone. Miraculously, as if drawn by string, the fish rises into the air and twists once, twice. The magic vanishes as soon as Engi blinks, the scene replaced by a warm conversation between Wanli and the local baker. She rubs her eyes and feels her breath hitch, mouth in a tight frown.

 _How did she do that?_

Engi thinks less and less of it when Wanli offers to make minnow balls, her appetite winning over the sudden bout of suspicion.

* * *

Cold. Warm. Good. The water folds into her body like a fine glaze, carrying her down into the brightest part of the swamp. Wanli makes sure to keep it out of her ears as she drifts on her back, eyes tracing one long streak of cloud. Someone is calling her name, making a scene on the river bank, but she ignores them. Let the idleness of a summer day consume her.

In her reverie, she barely dodges the cannonball, twisting to the left at the last second. Wanli freezes the liquid beneath her and sits back on her haunches. After the splash settles, Engi resurfaces on a passing slab of wood, braid coming undone as she laughs into oblivion.

"Your reflexes are still as sharp as ever," Engi says.

"You call that a sneak attack?" Wanli flicks her forehead, earning an indignant squawk. "What are you going to do when the bad guys actually show up? Play dead possum chicken?"

She almost regrets asking that question, feeling its truth weigh on her, but she shakes it off for Engi's sweet pout.

"You keep saying that, but we're safe. The tribe's too far away from civilization. Why would the Fire Nation come here? Unless…" She pushes off the wood and climbs onto the ice, getting up close and personal with her friend. "Can you see the future?"

Wanli blinks, and like the mystery she is, smiles and leans in closer.

"Yes," she answers. "Do you want to know what I see right now?" When Engi tilts her head, wanting in on the secret, Wanli continues the mischief.

"Not enough room on this ice for the two of us."

With that, the waterbender pushes and sends the other youth flying back into the stream. They proceed to fight for dominance, their giggles ringing over the river as the evening falls upon their childhood.

* * *

"I love you," a gray-haired woman says. The child in her arms squirms, batting her hands away from his face. "I really love you."

"M-mom, you're _sooo_ embarrassing!"

"I _exceedingly_ love you."

The boy fidgets, apple cheeks matching the shade of her crimson blouse. "I love you too, I guess."

"Aw, that's my little lover!"

" _Fighter_ , mom. I'm a soldier."

As she lifts him into the air, laughing through his squeals, her eyes alight with a joy like no other.

"You'll always be my little boy," she says.

…

The human mind will remember; it will remember and _hurt_.

Leaf sheets crumple helplessly between copper fingers. Fixed in the past, Wanli loses herself and wakes in feverish sweat. The dreams have grown more frequent and realistic; she's thankful to have gotten any sleep at all.

When she leans her head against the wall, the drum music vibrating through the wood calms her. Wrapping a blanket around herself uneasily like a stillborn, she peeks out the window and watches the tribe's autumn festivities kick off.

No one bothered to wake her up—typical. Wanli pulls a disgruntled face before smiling.

Tonight, lanterns made from fruit husks generously line the docks, bringing the people home after a long day. The swamp skiffs* are decorated and strung together with purple vines and golden flowers. Mushroom broths, gamey appetizers, and sweet wine are served by the dancers. Huu can be heard singing poorly to an Earth Kingdom melody, as Engi beats her drum and the children tag each other with water.

After a season, Wanli has surprisingly fallen back into the routine of her first life. Baking slime cakes, swamp skiing, picking roots, always being frustrated with people. She remembers how much she cares for them, how uncomfortable it is to love these people as much as she loves her boy. She's afraid of this peace—of living without knowing what's to come.

And Wanli can never help the flashbacks. They come to her when she rests, in the middle of work, and sometimes all at once: a world filled with corrupt governments, spiritual chaos, and war. The sounds of happiness outside have nothing to do with the time-traveller; it feels wrong to exist before her son does, be happy without him.

And then there's the _blood_ : deep, dense, and despicable in her veins. Like her old sins, it will follow her to the ends of time, thrumming with the enthusiasm of a jackhammer.

Of course, every creature requires blood to live, but what's inside her own body remains unexplainable. On most days, they are on the same page; on others, Wanli wants to tear her flesh open. Let the red run back into the earth and free her mind from the increasing mania. Being around other people only seems to make murderous impulses worse, because the waterbender _feels_ the villagers, their blood, so acutely.

Or, more accurately, the essence of life. Unlike other animals, humans carry something distinct in their systems. It derives itself from the universe rather than anything physical or earthbound. And like lightning conducts itself through a skilled firebender, this energy moves through people and can even store memories.

Sometimes, they are immediate or fleeting things, like the first day of school or a bad dinner date. But more often than not, blood harbors trauma. The kind of painful memory that inhibits one's true potential for bending, and worse, just as efficiently ends lives.

When she can't distract herself fast enough, Wanli experiences blood memory with people. In the same way snakes detect heat signatures, nothing escapes her senses. The village's proximity feels like one long strand of nausea. She feels Engi's homesickness, that time Huu almost drowned, and the many, many other mental injuries. The thick scars rope up her neck, marking her on the outside and running inside her, too.

 _Divine punishment_ , Wanli thinks. She can neither ignore the hurt or dismiss the call of bloodlust. What remains clear in this new life is that bloodbending is better left unsaid, unknown to the world. This current body is too inexperienced to harness the ability properly. The swamp people are also too compassionate and untouched by war to accept her like this.

In an attempt to regain control of her thoughts, she decides to do some midnight training. Wanli sneaks out through the backdoor like a cat and hides away from the lantern light.

As soon as the swamp water gets too dense to wade through, she lifts her bare feet up and onto the murky surface. Meeting no resistance, she walks across the water like a haloed hallucination. The moon sweeps through the trees, striking her hair and shoulders with an electric blue. And like moths to a flame, the night creatures flock to the girl, from giant flies to screaming birds with their mottled, bulbous bodies.

When she looks upon them, cobalt eyes concerned but inviting, they eagerly follow the traveller to her destination. A winding green river carves the path to a small graveyard, buried beyond a curtain of vines. It parts on cue for the group to slip past. Here, the wind doesn't linger and dust settles over the past.

Despite herself, Wanli smiles and inhales, deeply: death. She is far more comfortable in this unmarked place than in the village, where she must pretend to be someone worthy of life. On a mangled stump, she sits and pinches her dark hair into a bun. She has to do this right—no casualties, just good old-fashioned exercise.

The more she controls this now, the less it will haunt her daylight peace.

"Where are you?" Wanli asks, bracing herself. She draws her chi to her core and flexes her fingers. "Where are _we_?"

 _ **We are not out there**_ , a revolting voice answers. _**We are in**_ **here** _ **.**_

If this were the first time, she would've startled, but she has grown used to the trespassers in her mind.

The girl waves her left hand, making the creatures-in-waiting stir into animation. They begin to dance to a soundless tune, their bodies writhing and stilling. As she turns the animals like clockwork, Wanli wonders if they experience the same acute fear people do. The kind that bogs down the soul in the middle of the night and threatens to end the party of life. She wonders if they know, every time, that they've willingly walked into the hands of a murderer. With their innocent eyes turned up to the moon, it's almost she's an old friend.

 _Why didn't they run away?_ Wanli thinks. _Run, damn you, RUN._

 _ **Because they trust you.**_

She plays an excellent conductor to the dark thoughts. Right fingers tap along the air like a mechanical pulse beating to the perfect song. Slowly, Wanli turns them just so, her hand straight and tall with the thumb facing her, as if to halt the world. When she raises her limb, the animals also lift from the water and trees; and by the other hand's command, they levitate in a slow ellipse over the nameless headstones.

 _ **That's right. Good girl. Remember us and how good it feels.**_

The girl takes a good look into the eyes of one mouse, staring back at a distorted image of herself. Dangerous and empty, like a sea dragon consuming the waves. Surely, if she reaches her brown hands out, the reflection would grow fangs and pull her under, once and for all.

 _ **Finish it.**_

 _No!_

 ** _Finish it!_**

One second of hesitation is all it takes to break the spell. At the last moment, Wanli refuses to clench her fists. She remembers distantly that in her first and only moral life, the healer she had been would've never learned to bloodbend; she would've never killed another living thing, _just because_.

The animals are dropped gently to the earth and promptly scatter, and finally, her legs give out.

"No," Wanli repeats. "No casualties. Not this time."

Touched in the head. Impulsive. Remorseless. The original Wanli, at age fourteen, had been kind and sensitive; the current one plays in graveyards and can't move on.

 _In a perfect world, this ability wouldn't exist_ , she thinks, picking herself back up. _In a perfect world, I wouldn't either._

She doesn't commit to any really death now, but will she try again? Will she reclaim her terrible deeds? No matter what she does, she winds up back here at midnight with that itch in her soul.

When she exits her secret place, something nips at her heels without malice. Wanli looks down to see the village catgator Slim and the rest of the swamp creatures gather again. They are shaken and heaving, ruffled and skittish, but still swarm to her darkness.

She always had a way with animals; how loathsome.

"I'm not your friend," Wanli says, backing away and avoiding their warmth. It's like she had lifted and twisted herself into the air, too. Without looking back, she flees from the area and propels herself through the muck. She shoves her face deep into her hands to keep her skull from splitting open.

The waterbender hates how they trust her, how they _forgive_ her. She hates how they won't run away.

 _If I could, I_ _would never try to change the future again._

Upon returning to the village, she stiffens at the appearance of Huu. He sits at their doorstep, fiddling with a pile of lanterns and an old pipe. The festivities are long over and the girl wracks her brain for an excuse, but comes up short. He's always waited for her return, but not like this; not after a bloodbending session.

 _Accept the change_ , Wanli reassures herself. _Adapt to it. He still loves you. You've done nothing wrong yet._

"Heyo Wiyo, what's cooking?"

Wiyo. Still little Wiyo to him, even though he must see that something is off about her, more broken than before. The teen can't beat him, so she joins him. "Midnight stroll."

"You get anything to eat?"

"No appetite."

"Of course not, you kept napping the day away and missed my fabulous singing."

Wanli playfully nudges him with her elbow. "Shouldn't you be in bed? It's getting late, old man."

"Waiting for my other daughter to get to bed before I do," he says, nose upturned. "The mosquitoes get nasty at this hour, was worried they'd eat you alive."

"I'm sure they're eating you from the inside out right now, you kook."

Huu giggles to himself, rattling in his bones. Wanli watches him work to untangle the lanterns in warm silence, a haze falling around them like a blanket of starlight. She almost wants to tell him who she really is, but takes up the task with him instead, saving the conversation for another time. The water sloshing around their feet seems to be in her ears.

They used to do this frequently, now that Wanli thinks about it. Side by side, under some terrible light source, working on crafts or recipes. Self-proclaimed master and apprentice. The closest thing she has to a parent in this foggy world; the closest she remembers to being a child again.

"Wiyo," he calls in a different, quieter tone. "Wiyo, I hope you know what you're doing."

Wanli doesn't stop threading, even when her heart goes still.

"Do any of us really know what we're doing?"

She feels him look at her and smile, sadly, like she's going somewhere he can't reach. _And he can't_ , Wanli confirms, coveting the last shreds of her innocence. _I won't let him drown with me._

"No, I suppose we don't."

* * *

*Swamp skiff: Foggy Swamp Tribe canoe.


	3. Invasion

**A/N:** Thank you for the follows and feedback. This chapter is definitely grittier than the previous ones. Would love to know your thoughts, hope you like it!

* * *

"Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds."

—Vyasa, _Bhagavad Gita_

III. Invasion

 _Are the hands of a firebender supposed to feel like ice?_

Zuko thinks about this a lot, as the incessantly kind Iroh warms his nephew's cold palms. When they aren't pushing the limits with training, they sit like this together on lonelier nights. Far from home and lost at sea, with a crew that grows unhappier the deeper into Southern Water Tribe territory they go.

The teen used to enjoy water, always wished to learn about the tribes that honed an element so different from his own, but he despises the glacial plains now. Other cultures dim in comparison to his search for the Avatar. The world is wide and blue and cold, and Zuko wonders if it is all he'll ever know in his ruined adolescence.

On a misty winter day, jasmine tea has been left to cool on the counter as uncle and nephew squabble for the hundredth time.

"This is not, I repeat, _not_ an extended vacation," the teen emphasizes. "I can feel us getting closer to our goal, you'll see."

"You may have taken me out of retirement," the man replies, teasingly, "but you will never intrude upon my relaxation. A man must have his tea time if he is to face his enemy." He blows a long trail of steam through his nostrils at his nephew's disgruntled face, grinning as the youth brushes it off.

Zuko flexes his body against the rail and leaves his uncle to his board games, the energy draining from his dragon spirit. Ice, ice, and more ice; nothing, nothing, and more nothing. Perhaps these two years really have been a mistake, dragging a fleet of worn soldiers on a quest towards nothingness. With exile fresh in mind and phantom pain where half of his face should be, he ages with damage. The hurt has been internalized rather than understood, the image of a tyrant father hovering over his every move.

But then the blue beam of light shoots into the heavens, the landscape radiating a perceptible, earthly shift. Like balance being restored, breath by breath. The revelation shakes him to the core and thaws his dreams of honor.

"Finally." Amber eyes turn to his uncle with a newfound determination, footsteps light and excited. "Uncle, do you realize what this means?"

The old general peers forlornly at his cards and sighs. "I won't get to finish my game?"

"It means my search... it's about to come to an end."

The prince doesn't know it yet, but as his hands return to their correct temperature, on the other side of the world, a similarly lost soul has a much grimmer vision.

To her, the Avatar is not a cause for celebration, but a reminder of tragedy.

* * *

"Press your fingers here, at the heart. Now pedal the other arm into small circles, _small._ Good, good. Feel the water in the palm draw from the roots. Keep pedaling."

"Arms don't pedal. Some teacher you're turning out to be."

"Well they do in my head, ya insubordinator!" Engi cries.

"That's not even a word."

Wanli rolls her eyes but does as ordered any way. After a year of blending back into swamp life, the girl finds herself at the mercy of Engi's boredom. While she honed her waterbending for combative use long ago, the girl out of time lacked the gentle hand and patience for plantbending. Hence, the two adolescents find themselves practicing atop the hundreds and thousands of stairs circling the thick, ancient trunk of the banyan-grove tree.

However, the moment Wanli channels even the slightest bit of water into a willow sapling, it literally _shatters_ , ribbons of green and brown released from the depths of the underworld. In the background, Engi screams about how she isn't "pedaling hard enough" and "that was my favorite baby tree!"

"I tried. You tried." Wanli brushes her hands together. "I can't plantbend and that's final."

It's the truth, given her dangerous fighting style. Punch, slash, collapse: the same militaristic waterbending that got her son out of prison and saved her from many battles. Unconventional, rigid, _murderous_. Excellent bloodbending-material. She shakes her head to stop the intrusive thoughts, grounding herself in the moment.

 _You're not there,_ she reminds herself for the umpteenth time. _You're not there anymore. You finally have a chance at living, don't mess this up. You've been working so hard for this._

"Fine," Engi says. Pouting, she plops herself down and lifts a basket into her lap as her friend swings onto a higher platform for meditation. "I throw in the towel. But this isn't over, young grasshopper. We'll make a master out of you yet."

"Yeah, yeah," Wanli replies. "Sacrifice as many trees as it takes to save your teaching career."

As a comfortable silence settles over the two, she has time to observe her friend. The other waterbender's face has grown more heart-shaped and pleasant in comparison to Wanli's oval one. Even their skin is different, Engi's a fine tan and the latter's an uneven umber. They call Engi pretty down in the village; they call the bloodbender empty behind closed doors. Her pseudo-family pretends like the rumors don't exist, but the worried looks sent her way are hard to miss.

She feels guilty for being fully-loved but only half-there.

"Is there something on my face?" Engi breaks her trance, looping one reed through the other.

"No," Wanli says. "I just think you've gotten exceptionally ugly this past year."

"Ruuude," Engi drawls. "Is that the best you can do?"

"I kid, I kid. You're beautiful, love. What's your skincare routine?"

"Mud and wood frog secretion." The girl pats her face for good measure and turns her nose up in the air. "Works miracles on my boils."

"Beating drums made you soft enough to play with frogs, huh?" Wanli asks.

"You're clearly as hard-headed as the day we arrived."

"Punk."

"Grub."

Wanli bursts into laughter, unrehearsed for once. Some things will never change. "That's a new one."

"I have to catch up to you somehow." Engi shrugs.

 _I have hundreds of years over you,_ the other girl mentally muses. _Don't take it to heart_.

"Plantbending is uncommon and creative," she actually says. "Takes a special kind of care and prowess."

"Finally, some respect around here!" Engi dips her head in a bow, adding a flower to her own hair. "Thank you, thank you. One gold piece per autograph."

For the next hour, they work on their individual tasks of creating and training. Peacemaker, warmonger: the contrast is stark, but fails to separate the childhood friends. They were cut from the same blue cloth, a cold continent away.

"Do you miss it?" Engi sets down her finished basket. The sunlight has shifted into a mute lemon, the day beginning to break down. "The North?"

Wanli clasps her hands together, as if in prayer, dark eyes opened to stare ahead and deliberate her response. She knows their current world of foliage and scales more than she remembers her homeland of ice and fur. It used to come as a surprise, the idea that she could no longer picture where she'd been born or the faces of dead siblings and birth parents gone off to war. The spirits that once led her into the snowfall to make angels also evaded her memory.

No spirits will come to her now; they must know she has strayed from the light.

"I can't miss a place I no longer know," Wanli finally says. Engi nods in understanding, knees folded up and face buried in her skirts.

"I wonder if we can ever go back," she says.

"Maybe when we're olde—"

 _Boom!_ The bark beneath their legs trembles, the earth shaking violently a split second later. From a distance, likely right upon the great ocean, a column of light splits the clouds down the middle, puncturing the skies with an array of color. Wanli slowly stands, eyes wide with both elation and fear.

"The Avatar is back," she says, unconsciously. "Was he supposed to come back so soon?"

Engi gives her the most mystified look of her life, until the smell of smoke wafts up the world tree in plumes of fury. Without prompting, the girls roll on all fours and peer over the edge, where a group of soldiers, clad in maroon armor and skeletal masks, move around the roots in unwelcome droves. Their helmets bear great red horns Wanli thought she'd never see again.

"Fire Nation," the waterbenders whisper together. With shared looks of anxiety, they slink lower and lower down the platforms while the firebenders march further into the swamp, following them in the shadows.

 _They shouldn't be here in the winter_ , Wanli thinks, counting about thirty troops. _This is looking uglier by the second._

The Fire Nation would never risk the swamp and its unknown depths, at least not this early in the game. How did they know to get this far? A chill runs down her spine at the idea of the world changing even more; she hasn't even gotten used to this reincarnation yet.

"Nationalist scum," Engi hisses, moving to draw some vines to her core. Her features sharpen in unfamiliar anger. "We have to do something, they're moving in the direction of the village."

Wanli grabs the girl's hand and tugs her into a cluster of leaves; a soldier nearly saw them. "We're outnumbered. Maybe we should return to the village and start evacuating people first."

 _I'm afraid_ , goes unsaid. _I don't want to get involved and lose everything I've built._

"No, we got this!" Engi reassures, cornflower excitement in her gaze. "Finally some real action in this place."

"Engi." Wanli wants to scream, but nothing comes out of her mouth. To help her people, like any sane person would, or just let the Fire Nation run its course and take the nearest ship to Ba Sing Se? To not alter the future again?

"I don't understand why you're hesitating," Engi states. "This is our new home."

 _That's why I'm afraid._

Deep down, Wanli knows this is a terrible idea, but can't help the rush of adrenaline in her blood. She lets it bubble to the surface and breathe passion into her veins.

 **This year has certainly been too quiet** , the insanity inside insinuates. **A little fight won't hurt** **.**

"We have to split them up first," she finally says. "Do you see the glade up ahead?" She points and her friend nods enthusiastically. "If you lift those trees back there, they'll become a blockade. Close them in. I'll improvise from there."

"Gotcha." Engi shoots her a conspiratory grin. "It's showtime, sister."

Push and pull, push and pull. The plantbender stretches her arms fully and retracts everything in the same movement. As she kneads the air like a roller on dough, the tupelo trees* begin to squeeze together. The soldiers cry out in alarm when the trunks finally meet halfway, a great mass of chlorophyll pinched at the roots.

In the confusion, Wanli leaps off the platform, landing near one unsuspecting man. Half-turned and half-stepped back, she sweeps her leg out into a fluid quarter circle, and like she predicted, he and the other soldiers instinctively throw fire punches at the distraction. She extinguishes them with a projectile of liquid and pulls her hands towards her chest with great effort, conjuring the storm.

"We've been barricaded in!" a soldier alerts. "Look out!"

When they look back, the squadron is met with a green wave that pours over them, slamming some unfortunate souls against the wooden wall and carrying others around it, where they lie paralyzed in the reeds and pebbles.

"Ambush! Fire at will!"

Engi's laughter hits the air, and like a black widow casting its line down, she wraps a vine around the neck of a female firebender and pulls, _hard_. The woman goes crashing unpleasantly into the ground as Wanli plays dirty and throws mud into another guy's eyes.

"You take left, I take right?" Engi suggests again.

"You're right, so I left," Wanli answers.

"All right, show-off. Fireball approaching fast!"

The girls keep the battle going long enough to let their momentum establish, moving dually in their circle as the remaining ten soldiers dance to their death tango. While the long-ranged Engi whips out from a distance, rarely using the water at her feet but rather drawing from her speciality in the wildlife, Wanli fights up close and personal.

She probably broke a jaw on the last strike, dredging the river water into her palm and raising it to the opponent's mouth, only to impact the bone with ice at the last second. The waterbender thinks, distantly, that the sounds of combat suit her more than festival ones; it brings a feral smile to her face, one that takes away her spiritual fatigue.

"Ungh!"

"Gah!"

Wanli kicks the last female firebender so hard in the cheek, the head nearly flies off with the teeth.

"Forget that one!" a tall man cries. "All remaining troops, advance on the plant user!"

And like that, the team magic ends. Wanli looks up in alarm as three men convene on Engi, standing toe to toe and spreading a thick wave of fire over the water and plants. They respectively boil and crumble, the girl biting back a pained cry, cornered. The river dries up at her feet, draining her of the last potential escape route.

The tallest soldier kicks at Engi's head, and when she dodges, he brings down his fire-bladed fists. The plantbender's next dodge becomes the greatest mistake for everyone there. A ringlet of red and orange flies out from behind the man, who has long ducked now, drawn from the breath of a second firebender. Engi can only close her eyes and wait for it to connect.

But it never does. She blinks back the tears; like a geyser, Wanli has absorbed the impact in front of her. Immediately, the smell of burning flesh assaults the area.

"W-Wanli!"

The said youth sports a sizzling wound spreading from the left side of her jawline to the right crease of her collarbone, wrinkled and raw and _permanent_. Feeling everything and nothing all at once, Wanli sets two trembling fingers to the injury and scoops up the dribbling blood spotting her chestplate. There is less pain and more of an ugly, _giddy_ sensation, like a key has been turned between her ribs and opens a forbidden door.

"You…" She points calmly at the soldier—no, the _boy_ —and steadies her breath. It almost comes out in frozen stalagmites between her teeth.

 _ **They will wish they were under it**_ , her demons say. _**They will wish they were**_ **dead** _ **, too.**_

Wanli raises the same hand and waves deliberately, confidently. Like the animals in the graveyard, the human loses control of his body, screaming and twisting in the confines of his veins. His boots barely touch the water, legs kicking and convulsing. The remaining soldiers watch on in terror, too astonished by the witchcraft to move. Engi can barely fill her lungs with air, pressing herself into the corner.

 _ **Circle, circle, little fire-man. Twist and turn!**_

The skull mask slips from his face, revealing a fear-stricken expression, brown eyes pleading for dear life. He fails to utter a sound as Wanli suspends him in air and straightens her fingers. Someone tries to lunge at her, to take her down by the knees, but she simply knocks her head in the same direction, the indirect command sending the person flying with a sharp _gush!_

 _ **Just like we practiced**_ _,_ the voices urge. _**You can do this. What is one soldier's life?**_

"P-Please!" One soldier falls onto her knees. "He's only following orders!"

"He's got a family!" another one shouts.

Oh, they've simply _ruined_ the moment now, asking Wanli to tap into a conscience that isn't there. Doesn't _want_ to be there, not when the blood is so dense and alive.

"And he hurt mine," she says, mostly to herself. "Besides, he chose to be a fighter, just like I choose… _this_."

Wanli steps forward, seeing a familiarly distorted version of herself in her victim's gaze. Finally, she accepts the other side, closing the fist and slamming it into her free palm. Hesitation, no more.

A sickening _crunch_ resounds; the man's spine has been effectively cracked under the pressure. The agony is endless, felt in the hearts of all present. Even in innocent Engi, who never found compassion for firebenders until then. Wanli drops the newly disabled soldier, both strangely uplifted and ready to vomit. The bile fails to rise though, just as the man fails to die.

Run, run, run away. The footsteps grow farther and farther away, less life to be aware of, less life to be taken. Distantly, she follows their bodily fluid too until it fully disappears from the vicinity. Long after the firebenders have collected their troops and escaped the bloodbender, after the sun begins to fall from its golden throne, the girls remain in the dreadful silence of the swamp.

Wanli makes the first move towards her friend, whose face has refused to shift from its horror. In a ragdoll-like trance, the former brings a ball of water between her hands and to Engi's cheek, where a long gash begins to heal in an ephemeral glow; all the while, the flinching patient stares at the other girl's blistering burn. She can almost feel it herself, neglected and carved into bone. Her heart pounds in her ears, surely producing cold, rancid blood, as an irrevocable shiver runs through her system.

At the end of the process, Wanli stands against the setting sun, expression shadowed and unknown, and never looks back.

* * *

*tupelo: type of swamp tree.


	4. Loyalty

**A/N:** Hi friends, it's been a while since I've updated. School caught up to me and I suffered from a hip injury at the end of this semester. However, I'm hopefully back with much improved content. As always, thank you for the continued support and enjoy!

* * *

"The human heart dares not stay away too long from that which hurt it most."

—Lillian Smith, _Killers of the Dream_

IV. Loyalty

The rain is an unwelcome guest knocking on the door to her heart. But Wanli is not there; she is cut open and ruptured, the fingers of madness stabbing her wounds. The burn she sustained from battle, now a mottled scar, feels like a canyon—like a good chunk of her has been torn back to reveal a festering hatred. She doesn't bother to heal it, letting it remain as punishment for her inability to control herself.

The bloodbender has broken many bodies before, but this time is different. The aftermath is prolonged, mind eclipsed by a bout of antipathy. As she follows the central river out of the swamp, the girl hears the fiendish whispers surface in her mind again.

 _ **You left witnesses**_ , they insinuate. _**Sloppy work. Should have tied up the loose ends.**_

"I shouldn't have done it in the first place," Wanli hisses back, clutching one side of her head. "Leave me alone."

 _ **You let us in**_ , they laugh. _**Open the door, invite in some more.**_

She ignores the way her body protests, one foot in front of the other and seeking the world outside the swamp: the greater Earth Kingdom. Having traveled several days without rest, she isn't sure how much further it will be until the nearest town appears. Hopefully a sea port, if she remembers her maps correctly.

In her misery, Wanli plays back the fight frame by frame, mourning the soldier she ruined. Did it happen at all? Had any of this happened? How could she lose her temper like that and cripple a man? Regardless, there is no turning back. She has to get out of here, out of sight; her abilities are more volatile than anticipated, years of mastery lost to this child's body.

Her vision blurs with tears at the thought of leaving her family behind, of all her hard work going to waste, but she rips the fluid from her eyes with the wave of a hand. The Foggy Swamp will be fine; Huu and the others are more than capable. Wanli commends the firebenders for having gotten as far as they did. The average person usually lost their sense of direction—or their minds—to the swamp and its sounds driving nails into the neck. No doubt, those who got out of the fray unscathed won't be trying again any time soon.

But the premature mobilization of the Fire Nation against a small, relatively untouchable corner of the world like the swamp truly sets off her alarms. Why had they come into the swamp in the first place? Who sent them? Were they looking for something?

The sloshing of water behind her leaves those questions unanswered. Someone is hot on Wanli's tail, their blood as recognizable as the back of her hand.

Without wariness—it amuses her, really—Wanli pretends to be oblivious and lets the person stay in hiding. Knowing they are not here to fight, she casually kindles her fires and resupplies the four pouches of dried herbs at her hip. The harder survival tasks are separating mud from freshwater and driving ice picks into the hearts of possum chickens.

After four nights of no sleep, the human body will begin to experience a decrease in oxygen intake, faster heart rate, and hallucinations. Wanli notes these symptoms in her pursuer, counting down in her head the precise moment when—

 _Thud._ There it is, the fainting spell. Wanli approaches the figure, eyes alight with exasperation. Lying in the reeds, Engi breathes shallowly, body sprawled in the dark waters. She could never go that long without rest, having attracted a leech or two on the trek, if the suction marks on her legs indicate anything. Cautiously, Wanli carries the girl to her campsite, pushing the hair affectionately from a feverish temple.

After setting her down and getting a fire going, the girl considers their current predicament. Her friend was never supposed to see the cruelty of bloodbending first-hand. She also never left the swamp this soon. The girls were meant to meet in Ba Sing Se under a great autumn sun and rekindle their friendship into adulthood.

An older Engi would bring mooncakes and teach Wanli's son paper crafts, visit the Northern Air Temple every New Years and catch fireflies for their lanterns. In this life, these pure events would surely never happen again.

At the crack of dawn, Engi finally wakes up to the smell of roasting fly, noting that they are almost out of the swamp.

"How long was I out?" she calls hoarsely.

"A day," Wanli replies. "The Su Ming Pier is coming up ahead."

"What? Are you trying to catch a boat?"

"Nice observation."

"Don't be smart with me," Engi snaps. "You need to go back."

It takes everything in her not to flinch as Wanli stills, face turned away. Hands cease in their flame stoking, glimmering with what appears to be crystallized sweat. The beads become liquid again at the shake of a wrist.

Engi shivers at how far her friend has honed waterbending. No wonder plantbending never worked out during their training; Wanli never had the intention of being gentle. In the firelight, her body is leaner and meaner, a violent anomaly whose mysterious motivations haunt Engi.

"Go back? To what?" Wanli rubs her temple. "There's nothing left for me in this swamp. I've prepared a travel pack for you, so head out as soon as you feel better. You know your way back without me."

That hurts more than Engi cares to admit.

"You don't get to decide that," she says.

"And _you_ do?" Wanli feels her irritation spike, setting down their food.

"Why did you kill him?"

"I didn't—!"

"The man's as good as dead!" Engi interrupts. "He might have been from Fire Nation, but no one deserves… deserves whatever _that_ was!"

After regaining her nerve, the girl begins to cry. The grief finally catches up with her fatigue.

"What would you have had me do?" Wanli asks, quietly. "Let him burn you? Let him take my family? We're at war and it's reached the swamp now. I'm not going to justify what I did."

When Engi finally controls her sobbing, she looks up at Wanli and blanches at what she sees. "W-what did you do to your hair?"

"Is it already turning white?"

To answer her own question, Wanli rips a few strands from her head without batting a lash and inspects the change. Indifferently, she lets the hair fall away like fine spider thread, sinking into the damp earth below.

This happened in every life. She never expected to retain the beautiful dark brown color so characteristic of the Water tribes. It was a blessing that her hair had even held up this long, her body physically fifteen but weighed down by the stress of too many lives.

The pair sits in silence, separate revelations striking them.

"I've known you my whole life," Engi finally starts, "but I've never seen you hurt someone so badly before. What am I missing?"

"Nothing," her friend answers. "I'm just not who you think I am."

"Then what did you do to her? To my best friend?"

This warrants no response, to which the plantbender scoffs.

"Nobody changes overnight."

"It can't be change if it's in my nature."

As if to prove a point, Wanli begins to circle a hand in front of Engi's face. Slowly, and to the latter's horror, her tears are plucked from her eyelids one by one. They swing overhead in circular fashion, and with two hands now in a squeezing motion, Wanli forms needlepoints of salt, close enough to flesh that Engi begins to panic, her heart clogging her throat.

They rain down...

" _Don't!_ "

...like the fine droplets of sadness they originally were, framing the frightened waterbender's face and mixing with her sweat. Wanli smiles, cruelly but almost imperceptibly with pain, and returns to work.

"I let her die," she says. "I let your little Wiyo die."

As Engi proceeds to pass out again, the bloodbender decides that this is the cost of her sins. Not the voices, not the white hair, but Wiyo and her almost-happiness. When this dawns on her, the voices fade a little, into the smoke rising from the fire.

 _ **We are here and we are here to stay**_ , they promise in her dreams.

* * *

From child to fisherman to merchant, news of Avatar Aang's return makes its way to the lone Fire Nation ship. As Zuko and Iroh settle down for dinner, the chef brings in the best fish this side of the coast, only to be interrupted by a soldier.

"Sir!" The man bursts through the door and salutes his commander. "We've just received word that the Avatar is on Kyoshi Island."

"The Avatar's on Kyoshi?!" The prince jumps from his seat, eyes alight with enthusiasm. He motions for the guards to clear the table, robes flaring at the movement as he heads for the door. "Uncle, ready the rhinos. He's not getting away from me this time."

Iroh watches on quietly, taking his sweet old time. He sets his chopsticks down and points at the dish in front of him. "Are you going to finish that?"

His nephew is quick to act and snatches up the plate.

"I was going to save it for later!"

The retired general rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and pouting at the loss. Couldn't the Avatar wait just this once? That looked like good catfish!

* * *

"You didn't have to send me off."

"I'm not." Engi finishes sewing the leather satchel, making eye contact and biting off the end of the thread extra aggressively.

Wanli feels her eye twitch at the response; what a brat. The pair finally reached Su Ming Pier in one piece after more tears and an unpleasant mud fight. The afternoon is fresh and bright, sparkling against the seawater and bouncing off of neatly thatched roofs.

Efficiently, like they so often did back in the swamp, the girls split up to sell swamp materials, occasionally reconvening to discuss their bartering spoils. With an eye for textiles, Engi procured some basic Earth Kingdom garments for them: jade shirt-robes, ash khakis, and reed-woven sandals. For someone who hasn't traveled this far from home before, the plantbender is formidable, even finding dressing for Wanli's burns.

"Does it hurt?" Engi finds herself asking, as she ties the last bandage.

"Not as much now," the other girl replies.

 _T_ _hanks for still caring_ , Wanli fails to convey. She feels the unwitting bile rise at the back of her throat. There are too many people in this marketplace, too much blood to experience. It's the most maddening, claustrophobic situation she's been in thus far, but like her own injury, the waterbender beats it into submission.

 ** _Why ignore them_** , the voices begin, **_when you can_** **break _them_** ** _? It's what you do best._**

"I can take care of myself from here." Wanli haphazardly throws supplies into a leather duffel and carefully shuffles it onto her good shoulder, ready to embark on a new journey.

"Not so fast," Engi says, blocking the path. "I'm coming too. Huu would talk my ear off if he knew I wasn't there for you—whoever you are."

"Just hit me already. I'd rather lose a tooth than listen to this sap."

"Take me seriously!"

 _ **We don't need her**_ _ **. Make her move**_ ** _._**

"Get out of the way," Wanli commands. Her palms bruise from how hard she clenches her fists, how much control it takes to not turn the situation violent. She must've been really wet behind the ears; had she always been so quick to anger? "You aren't coming."

"And like I said," Engi presses, "you don't get to decide that. If you're not coming back with me, then tough luck talking me out of leaving you."

Tired in both body and soul, Wanli doesn't even try to fight back. Perhaps having another person wouldn't be so bad; and where she's going, family would be quite nice. Regain some sense of belonging, if she gets that far.

"Fine." She spins on her heels and walks opposite direction, ignoring the way her mind hisses in protest. "You're free to come, but it won't be my fault if you cry again."

"I only teared up twice!" The plantbender catches up in a few steps, putting some distance between them but still walking by her side.

 _ **You will regret this**_ , comes a dark whisper.

 _It's only Engi,_ Wanli thinks _. What can she do to me that I haven't done to myself? As long as she stays away when we arrive, it will work out._

As they finish checking off on their groceries, the girls make their way to the main attraction: the ferries. But upon arrival, there are no boats in sight and only people hustling and bustling, coins clanging and voices clambering. Engi looks on in mild confusion and pulls Wanli to the side, away from prying eyes.

"Where are we going, exactly?" she asks.

"Kyoshi Island."

"The woman warriors? Why?"

"What you don't know won't hurt you," Wanli replies.

 _Punch_. "Tell me," Engi seethes. The expression on the plantbender's face could put a forest fire to shame. "Just how many secrets have you been hiding from everyone?"

"I—"

From the corner of her eye, Wanli sees a figure snag a woman's pouch and run away. Ignoring her friend's fury, she steps to the side gracefully and gets a clear angle of the thief. Placing her hands at her core, like a mother shielding her swollen womb, she imagines pulling his blood to her like one would reel in rope. The feverish fluid of a chase settles in her palms; she has him at her mercy.

Behind her, Engi watches in amazement as the man stops in his tracks and begins to walk backwards, veins straining in his neck. Soon, a pair of security guards sweep by the girls to apprehend the robber, who starts to yell profanities and something about a spirit possessing him.

"Why did you do that?" Engi asks, watching the scene unfold with apprehension. "And so publicly, too."

"It got you to quiet down, didn't it?" The bloodbender dodges the punch to her head without looking. "Hey, I just thought it was something you would do. What Wiyo would do."

Engi stills, confused and irritated all at once. "Stop pretending to be a good person."

"You're right. That's why I want to get away." Wanli guides them to a stack of crates, away from the passersby. She sits her friend down and lowers her voice, suddenly serious. "I need a quiet place. For my head."

"For your head?"

"There are consequences to my abilities. Like you've seen with my hair, nobody who bloodbends gets out untouched."

"Bloodbending?" Engi feels sick. "That's what it's called? You can manipulate someone's _blood_?"

"I would explain it in depth, but I'm not an expert either. The only concrete method that's kept me from going completely insane is to give in to the voices for a little while. But..."

Wanli rubs her face. Everything inside of her screams for silence, for her troubles not to bleed out. Yet, here she is, twisting the knife further in. Revealing her weaknesses.

"The voices _are_ me, Engi," she presses. "They're not a passing inclination. I thought I could live out my life with you, but I can't run from destiny anymore. That soldier was just the beginning."

"The beginning of what?" Engi asks, not truly wanting an answer.

"I heard from a vendor that Kyoshi has been untouched by war for years. The Fire Nation is unconcerned with it. If we can get there, I can stay away from situations that provoke the blood. Start fresh. Live a quiet life."

With a renewed sense of purpose, Wanli holds Engi's shoulders and forces eye contact. "I'm not going to say things will be okay. I'm not going to lie and tell you I don't mean any harm. If this place wasn't so crowded, if there were no witnesses, I might have hurt that robber just as much as the firebender. But I want you to know that even though I'm broken, I don't intend to always be a liability. I need peace too."

When their eyes meet, Engi is astonished by the sincerity and desperation, by how different yet familiar that cobalt gaze is. Her best friend endures; and for reasons beyond herself, Engi wants to fall into this person, but she holds back before the emotions win over reason.

"I might not trust you anymore," she finally says. "I might be terrified of you, but I can't give up on you, either. We're practically sisters, so I'm still going to stay with you. Can you at least promise me one thing?"

 ** _You will regret_ this**, the voices repeat.

"Anything," the waterbender replies, getting better at feigning ignorance.

"Please don't kill anyone." Engi raises her pinky, face set in determination. "I-I know I'm naive, and I know the world is falling apart, but unless you have to, no killing. Huu taught us that all creatures are worthy of life. If there's still some good in your heart, you will honor that."

There's an ear-splitting scream in her mind, the wretched blood fighting against the promise, but Wanli still meets Engi head-on. They thread fingers, feeling each other's heartbeats through the other's pressed thumb.

"No killing," she repeats, standing at her full height and bringing her friend with her. "We have a boat to catch."

"Right. Well, since we both know I'm the silver tongue, I'll do the talking." When the other girl raises a high eyebrow, Engi scoffs. "Relax, I only bite when provoked."

In the end, she gets her way, batting her eyelashes at the head poncho and his fisherman when it's their turn in line. Wanli makes an indecipherable gagging sound and receives an elbow to the gut.

"Hello boys," Engi coos. "We're looking for a ride to Kyoshi Island. I have some unattended business with my uncle Jo."

"Gee, I'm sorry little lady," the one man confesses, scratching his beard. "We've actually got no more availabilities today. Something about the Avatar being seen in the area."

"But that's impossible," she counters. "Nobody's seen him for decades. Who's coming up with these wild rumors?"

Meanwhile, her fellow waterbender freezes, wracking her head for rhyme or reason. If Wanli remembers correctly, Avatar Aang was unfrozen from a southern iceberg by the master healer Katara and her councilman brother Sokka. They proceeded on their journey to the North… had their first pitstop been Kyoshi Island? What exactly were they doing there?

As Engi haggles the captain for more information, Wanli suddenly spots the exact but dangerous entry point: out on the open waters, a Fire Nation ship splits the sea with its pitch black hull. From the vantage point of the pier, few people notice it, but the waterbender would recognize a war ship anywhere.

 _It's going in the direction of Kyoshi_ , she thinks. _So much for my retirement._

"Engi, let's go." Without warning, she grabs her friend by the wrist and drags her away.

"H-hey! Don't we need a boat?"

"I think I just found it."


End file.
